Old Wounds Run Deep
by Starlingrade
Summary: He had lost everything then, and all that he wanted to do now was to get his revenge. He didn't care what he did or how he did it, as long as his efforts came to fruition. But was it enough to fill the gaping void left in his heart?


He closed his eyes once more, as memories of a life not too long ago flashed through his mind. At first, they were pleasant, many about him and his betrothed enjoying each other's company, then leading to the time when he finally proposed. His greatest memory of all, when she accepted. Then he remembered the fire. That fire. The one that tore his life asunder.

* * *

_Its was a cold and stormy night, as he drove his way home after a long day at work, eager to return to the warm embrace of his fiancé. He had only proposed two days prior and once again smiled widely as he recalled the look on her face as she said yes. Ah, that was the single most precious moment he would never forget._

_Noticing the night sky being oddly bright, he looked around curiously. Rounding a bend in the road, what he saw gave him a shock. He spotted his house, the same house that he had bought when the war finished, the house in which she lived with him, the house where she was in now, on fire. He slammed down on the pedal, weaving through traffic like it wasn't there, as he sighted a purple seed fall from the sky, and exploded in a burst of energy that shook him to his core._

_Leaping out of his car, he ran into the house, oblivious to the shouts that the others around him were aiming at him, his mind focused on making sure that she was safe._

_Ramming the door to their bedroom with his shoulder, what he saw horrified him. All that remained of the room, which was once decorated by them with items that reminded them of their __favourite__ times together, was a burning mess of debris, where the roof had fallen in on the room._

_Spying something shining in the light of the blaze, he rushed forward._

_Kneeling down, he saw that it was a photo frame sitting next to a blackened piece of wood, and enclosed in it was a shot of him on one knee, proposing to her, taken by his best friend. Glancing back at the wood, his breath left him and didn't return, as the horror of what had taken place dawned upon him._

_That was not a piece of wood. It was a charred arm. Seeing a glint of metal, he widened his eyes. It was a slightly melted ring. Upon that ring was a pink ruby that he had picked. Not for just anyone, but for the ring he had given to her. He picked up the arm, and watched it crumble way in his hands, leaving nothing but the ring. Staring at it, he let the grief that was in his heart consume him in that moment, and let out a scream, a scream so filled with anguish that it shocked even the police force outside of the house, never having heard a cry like it before._

_He crawled his way to the corridor and leaned against the wall, tears streaming down his face as he held onto the ring with all his being. He spied a white mask, and the laugh of madman was heard throughout the fire. He stilled his anger. He didn't care that the flames were only growing hotter, nor that he might die soon. If anything, he welcomed it. He wanted nothing less than to join his love. He watched as the world began to blacken as the heat took its toll on him, and passed out in the middle on the inferno, wishing that he could see his one true love soon.  
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* * *

_But fate was a cruel thing. He never saw her again after that day, with only a few memories left. He remembered the sounds of people whispering urgently around him, and the feeling of lying down on a firm but comforting surface. Images came and go as he drifted in-between states of consciousness. Then the sound of life supporting machines surrounding him, along with familiar voices.

They tried to console him. He shunned them. They couldn't have known what he was going through. The one person who truly understood him, the one who he loved with his mind, body and soul, was killed by a madman who wanted nothing more than the end of humanity. They didn't know what it was like.

He opened his eyelids once again, his eyes now a washed-out, metallic purple hue that would have stricken terror into even the most war-hardened veteran. It was dark, and now was the time. He sheathed the few knives that he was bringing with him, along with two longer blades. He wanted this to be as up close and personal as he could get it. Standing up, he left. He left to confront his only real enemy. The only person he wanted to kill. The one who stole his life from him.

He knew where he was going to be. He had given his all to finding out where this beast was going to be at this very date. Exactly one year after he had lost everything that meant to him. He slashed down the door with eerie precision, like that of a machine. A large group of men were inside, surprised by his violent method of entry. Each drawing their weapons, they charged. Fools.

Both blades out in an instant, he went from a solitary figure to a blur of movement. A razor sharp edge in each arm, he was too quick for the eye, a whirlwind of determination and cold steel, a dance as awe-inspiring as it was terrifying. Cutting down the last thug, he noticed a flash and a bang, and he saw a small projectile headed towards him, right at his head. It moved slowly. Too slowly to stop him from reaching his goal.

Bringing up a blade, he deflected it just enough so that to split a few hairs on the top of his head, almost as if he didn't even know it was there. Drawing a tiny dagger, he flung it at the origin of the bullet with inhuman strength and speed. He heard a clang, and then saw the gun thrown to the ground in front of him, dagger jammed straight down the barrel.

A masked man walked into the light at the far end of the room, drawing his own set of weapons.

Remaining where he was, he stared at the masked man, and asked, "Why did you do it Rau?", his voice hoarse and his throat raw from the tears he had spilled while grieving over his loss. "Why did you have to take the only person that meant everything to me away?"

Rau sneered. "You should know why I did it. I did it because removing her was just one more step into plunging this world back into war, and ultimately forcing mankind to drive themselves into extinction. Didn't I tell you that was my goal before, Mr. Ultimate Coordinator?"

Face contorting with rage, his eyes retaining their cold, hard stares, he shouted. "Then why not kill me at the same time? I was vulnerable. Why did you have to make her die without me? Why did you have to leave me to dwell in my own personal hell for the last year?"

He laughed. "Because if both of you died, they would think it was only arson, and though the world would be saddened, it hardly brings humanity closer to destruction. No, I had to let them see how you would become, how their own Heroes could become murderous and go against their ideals, how their greatest peacemakers became killers. A good way to spark another conflict, is it not?"

Growling, he drew brought up his blades, poised to kill without a second thought. With barely any sound made, he leapt forward and slashed his blades downwards, only to be met with more steel. They exchanged blows repeatedly, neither gaining the advantage over the other. Eventually, Rau scored a direct hit, and gashed him across the chest, forcing him to drop his weapons and fall to the ground.

Kneeling on the floor, he heard him laugh again. The same laugh he heard the last year. The laugh he heard after she had perished in the flames. Just then, he stopped caring. He stopped caring that this man was supposed to be dead. He stopped caring that this was just another flawed clone. He stopped caring that this man wanted to end humanity. All he cared about was that this man was the reason that his beloved was gone, and blood needed to be paid with blood.

Grabbing one sword from the floor, he moved, the quickest he had ever moved, and drove the it into his stomach, before standing up and slashing the man's throat. Letting out a gurgling laugh, he fell to the ground, blood still spurting out of his neck before he was silent.

Falling on all fours, he stared at the ground and laughed. "It is done." He thought. He could almost taste the sweet, sweet revenge he had taken. That was the problem. Almost wasn't good enough. He had done the deed. Then why did he still feel so empty? Tears started streaming down his face again as he realized that no matter what he did, things would never be like they used to be, and that he had just killed someone in cold blood. It didn't matter that he was a deranged person who did not deserve to live. He had killed him. And he enjoyed it. Remembering what his sister had told him, as she was talking about the time when everyone thought his best friend had killed him, about how killing someone just because they had killed one who you loved would never bring peace to this world. He let out another long cry, similar in magnitude of the time when he had lost her, one that everyone around the neighbourhood had heard.

After crying for a good while, he picked up the other weapon from the floor. Holding it towards him, he whispered one last thing. "Lacus, I'm sorry." Before plunging it into his own heart. Lying with his back on the floor, he started to see his memories before his eyes, with the final image being on her, the very first time he had realized that he loved her. Reaching his arm out to the image that seemed so real to him, he tried to force out words from his mouth, but none came forth. And with that, he was gone.

Half an hour later, the police arrived. They had received a call from one of the citizens living around the area, who had opened the door of the warehouse and saw the mass of bodies surrounded by blood. Walking to the scene, the officer in charge looked away, not wanting to look at them longer than necessary. One body was that of a blonde man wearing a white mask, throat slit, with a maniacal laugh still upon his face, along with a bloody blade on the ground. The other was a brown haired man covered in a plethora of blood, clad in black, sword through his heart and what seemed to be the remnants of an expression that showed nothing but sorrow.

Two figures rushed into the warehouse, one holding a crumpled piece of paper in her hand. They rushed here the moment they had found the note on his table, stating where he was going and his intentions. Seeing his body, his sister stifled a scream. His best friend held her close as tears threatened to fall down his face. The officer escorted them out, not wanting them to dwell here any longer.

* * *

A few days after the funeral, a group of people were huddled around two tombstones in the courtyard of the Palace of Orb. A blue haired man stood in front of the graves as a golden-headed woman knelt down to place two bouquets of flowers upon the graves. Another traced the faint scar on his face, his white hair outstanding in their black outfits, a brunette clinging onto his arm. One tried to smile, but failed, as tears gathered in his eyes, clouding his vision. He barely had the chance to get to know these two, and now they were gone. And a brown haired woman wept bitterly as a tall man supported her. She had made this young man enter the war, she felt that she was the cause of all this.

After the group had left, one could read the short inscriptions upon the two headstones. The one on the left read:

_Kira Yamato_

_Here lies one that had his loved one taken away in cold blood._

_May his tormented soul rest in peace,_

_Knowing that he is with her now._

_We will never forget the sacrifices_

_That he has made to give us the world we have today_

And the one on the right read:

_Lacus Clyne_

_Her time on Earth was prematurely ended,_

_But may she find peace,_

_As she spends the rest of eternity with her beloved._

_None will forget all that she has done for us,_

_For this world.  


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**Author's Note: This is the first thing I've ever posted, so please R&R and don't be too harsh =D**


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